A Duke to Elude: Sweet Regency Romance (Sherton Sisters Book 1)

by Wendy May Andrews

  “I expect so. But that could be hubris on my part,” he added with a laugh. “I’m partial to it so, I expect everyone else to be as well.”

  “So, that’s why you chose it? Because you like it?”

  “I like it, it’s close enough to Town that we can be there and back before we are missed, and I would trust the proprietor with my life. All three factors were important to my choice.”

  She didn’t add anything else, merely nodded and watched the scenery pass for a while longer in silence.

  “Surely you realize, though, that it isn’t likely that anything I have to say will be of any importance to you, don’t you?” Again, her voice was low and tentative. A quick glance showed James that her hands were clenched together in her lap so tightly that he was afraid she would split the seams on her gloves.

  Cursing inside his mind, James realized that going far from the city was merely heightening the anxiety for her. Glancing around at the empty road and fields, he realized they were as private as they were ever going to be. With the exception of her maid, they were the only people around. They wouldn’t even be this private at the inn.

  He reached over and grabbed her hand, despite it being in her lap. Again, she allowed it. With his one hand, he brought his team to a slower pace.

  “I apologize, Lady Rosabel. I should have realized that dragging this out would make it seem far scarier than it needs to be.”

  She lifted her chin and looked into his face without meeting his eyes. “I’m not afraid. I’m embarrassed. And annoyed. And getting angry, if you must know.” She paused for a moment, lowering her tone back to its usual well-modulated level. “You accosted me during the waltz, demanding answers to strange questions. The waltz, Your Grace. You are an excellent dancer. It should have been blissful. But you had to ruin it with your questions about Prescott. I don’t like him, and I don’t want to talk about him. Then you demand that I be up and ready to leave at a ridiculously early hour, again with the purpose of asking me about Prescott. It turns out that being up at this hour is glorious. And driving with you behind your beautiful horses is lovely. But when we get to this inn that you so enjoy, you’re going to make me tell you something I don’t wish to. So, all of this is to be ruined as well. I don’t think I much like you anymore, Your Grace. And if we weren’t already so far from Town, I might make a scene and demand you put me down this instant so I could walk home. But no matter how angry I might be, I’m not stupid.” She heaved a heavy breath and concluded in a low tone. “But I’m still disappointed.”

  The soft, mournful voice with which she concluded her statement made James clench her hands tightly in his. In that moment, he longed to pull her into his arms and offer her comfort. He couldn’t remember ever feeling that way toward any woman other than his little sister. And it had been years since he had found the need to comfort her. Of course, it would be highly irregular if he were to do so with Rosabel, but it was still what he wished to do.

  His horses were now moving at a walk, and he could allow them to direct themselves for a time so he could turn his focus on the young woman beside him. He chose to ignore her maid completely, focusing all his attention on Lady Rosabel.

  “I am most sorry for your disappointment, my lady. I swear it is necessary. There is much that I cannot tell you, but if you have anything you can tell me about Prescott, I beg that you do so.”

  “That hardly seems fair, Your Grace,” she countered, a little of her spirit returning, making him smile.

  “I understand why you say so. I will count on your discretion, and tell you as much as I can, but you will have to trust me for now.”

  Both his female passengers snorted at that, making his smile turn rueful.

  “I have to trust you, but you will not trust me, is what you’re telling me.”

  “I’m asking you to trust me with your own secrets, not those of someone else, or at least that’s what I’m assuming. You are asking for secrets that do not belong to me.”

  To James’ profound relief, her searching gaze finally met his own. Not that he enjoyed her probing stare, but he was glad she was no longer avoiding looking him in the eye. He couldn’t have said what she read in his face, but it must have reassured her in some way, as she nodded and launched into speech.

  “Very well, Your Grace. I will give you my trust. But I promise you this: if you violate my trust and divulge my secrets and it in some way hurts my sisters, I will find a way to get back at you. Even if you scoff and think there’s nothing a debutante could do to hurt you, I can assure you that I am far from stupid, and I will make it my life’s goal to find a way.”

  While her threats might sound puny, and he should be offended that she wasn’t actually trusting him by threatening him in this way, the fact that it was concern over her sisters that was motivating her distrust endeared her all the more to him. He squeezed her hands once more and was gratified when she finally relaxed her grip on her own hand and turned one over to return his clasp. With a deep breath, as though to fortify herself, Rosabel launched into speech.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rosabel felt as though her entire person were quivering. She had never told anyone other than Sally. They had agreed that it was in everyone’s best interests if they kept it a secret. She knew it was irrational to be filled with fear over it now. With how much time had passed, it might not ruin her. But any whiff of scandal around any debutante had the potential of growing in dimension if the wrong person decided to make noise about it. For her own part, Rosabel would almost prefer being done with Society, so the thought of her own ruination wasn’t such a dreadful thing, but she couldn’t allow that to affect Hilaria and Vicky. Even the little girls still at home would be affected if their oldest sister were ruined.

  But the duke’s warm hand wrapped around her own felt like the safest haven, even though he was the cause of her dismay.

  Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Rosabel started to speak.

  “It was the third week of my first Season. I was just as wide-eyed and eager as any young provincial girl in her first Season. I almost never thought before I spoke, but I had been raised to be polite so, I never put myself beyond the pale. I was meeting new people every day, and I was certain I would find the love of my life at the very next event I attended. When I think of the girl that I was, I wish I could protect her. Make her stay back at Glendale, perhaps marry the squire from the next county instead of going to London for this ridiculous Season.”

  James’ hand tightened on hers. “I remember that girl. She was a beautiful youngster.”

  “But practically a child, she was.”

  “As are most debutantes.”

  She met his gaze, trying to delay her tale a moment. “Don’t you think that should be outlawed? Shouldn’t debutantes have to be a bit older?”

  “How old would you think appropriate?”

  Rosabel shrugged, realizing that it wasn’t necessarily her age that had been the problem but the very sheltered nature of her upbringing.

  “I do think many of the debutantes are a wee bit too young. Why Lana Bridgestone is only seventeen, I believe. But perhaps it’s lack of education rather than youth that is the real dilemma.”

  “What happened, Rosabel? Tell me now and get it over with. What did Prescott do? I swear to you, I’ll never allow him or anyone else to hurt you again.”

  Bel smiled over the adamant tone in Wexford’s voice even if she didn’t quite believe he could accomplish the deed. She found she didn’t quite fully trust any man any longer. Her eyes had been opened two and a half years ago in a way she didn’t like. But it was sweet of Wexford to say so anyway.

  With a slight shake of her head, Rosabel continued her disjointed tale.

  “I didn’t really realize that the Season revolved around the sitting of the House of Lords. I rather thought it was the other way around. That the Lords just happened to sit as they had nothing else to do. From the female perspective, the balls and routs and breakfasts and such
are the center of focus. But the true reason, as I’m sure you are well aware, is all about the government and how the power can be brokered and garnered.”

  From what she could see of Wexford’s face, Rosabel knew he never thought otherwise. Bel’s lips twisted into a wry smile. Of course, she doubted Wexford had ever had a foolish day in his life. She sighed softly. That was probably as it should be, but she couldn’t say the same, unfortunately.

  “All the trappings of the Season are to keep the females occupied while the menfolk are running the country. And, of course, the most necessary process of arranging for the next generation of noblemen to run the country through suitable matches.”

  Rosabel no longer noticed the passing scenery or even the occasional birdsong. All her attention was focused on Wexford’s concerned gaze and the warm clasp of his hand. Vaguely she was aware of Sally’s labored breathing as she anxiously relived Bel’s story with her. Or perhaps, Rosabel thought, that anxious breathing was her own. Perhaps she had lost all her hard-earned control and self-possession. If so, it was all Wexford’s fault. She would rebuild it if she had to. She had done it once; she could do it again. She carried on.

  “Anyhow, in my ignorance and youth, thinking the Season was all about me and the fairy tale happy ending I was expecting, I paid little attention to my father’s whereabouts. He would often escort my mother and me to balls, but he didn’t hang on our skirts in the least, always going off to the card room or wherever else he could find the men he needed to convince of something or other. I know that now.”

  “Rosabel, my dear girl, I am sure every debutante has felt the same way. It is a rare female who takes an interest in the politics of the sessions. You were not foolish to think that. For you, that was the point.”

  “Thank you for saying so, but if I had been more aware, I would have understood why Prescott was showing such an interest in me.”

  Bel was gratified to see the anger that blazed in Wexford’s eyes. The continued firm grasp of his hand helped her to know it wasn’t directed at her.

  “What did he do, Rosabel? Get it said. Dragging it out is only prolonging your pain.”

  “Like pulling out a splinter, do you think, Your Grace? Unfortunately, I don’t think you’re right. Dragging it out might prolong my embarrassment in front of you, but it has been paining for two and a half years, that’s not likely to end with the telling.”

  “You might be surprised.”

  His answer was dark and sent a more violent shiver through Rosabel’s already quivering frame, but it was not unpleasant, as she knew it was on her behalf rather than directed at her. She liked it more than she should. But she couldn’t allow herself to be foolish over another man. Not that she had ever been attracted to Prescott. She told the duke so.

  “Don’t misunderstand. I did think he was trying to court me, but I wasn’t overjoyed about it.”

  “Was it Prescott that made you decide you didn’t want to wed a noble?”

  Rosabel was surprised to hear a laugh come out of her throat and wondered how she could be amused at a moment like that.

  “He reaffirmed it, that is true. But I already had a vague notion that I didn’t enjoy being the focus of attention. You see, whoever decides these things had decided that I was that Season’s Diamond. Everywhere I went people stared and whispered. It was most uncomfortable. And it made the situation with Prescott all the more precarious. People were talking about his attentions toward me. He was so much older than me and not in the least to my liking, so I didn’t want to even consider him. But being the properly raised provincial young lady that I was, I wasn’t quite sure how to discourage him.”

  Bel paused for another deep breath. She had gotten to the crux of her tale and didn’t really want to share it. But she could tell from the expression in Wexford’s gaze that he was fairly certain of what was coming, so she might as well get it said.

  “He kept wanting to talk about my father whenever he called. In hindsight, it really was foolish of him to think I would have any knowledge, let alone any power, over my father’s opinions or decisions, but Prescott is a fool besides a bounder and a cad.” Rosabel shrugged, dismissing the man’s foolishness before getting on with her own.

  “Finally, he spoke to my father, asking for my hand. Thankfully, I had already told Father that I didn’t want to accept, so he didn’t even put me to the blushes of refusing for myself. We thought the matter was settled. Father actually came and told me that he felt it was for the best that I had refused due to the opposite nature of their politics. I didn’t ask for details. I was merely thrilled that the matter was taken care of. Or so I thought.”

  For a moment, Rosabel almost quailed in her telling. She could hear that Sally had begun to weep. She was quiet about it, but Rosabel still knew. She appreciated her faithful maid’s support and loyalty, but it made her own throat clog with emotion for a moment. Calling on all the powers of concealment she had learned after her experiences with Prescott, Rosabel lifted her chin and finished her story. But she could no longer hold her gaze steadily to Wexford’s eyes, shifting her own to stare slightly over his shoulder.

  “I still don’t even know exactly what he wanted my father to support with him or how he hoped to manipulate my father. I’m not sure how he thought that marrying me would impact my father’s politics. He must have been desperate, is all I can figure. But he expected me to be an easy acquisition, even after we had refused him. He counted on my complete innocence. And that is where he failed.”

  By now, Rosabel’s hand was starting to go numb from Wexford’s tight hold, but she welcomed the lack of feeling. She wished it would spread to her entire being in that moment.

  “He hoped to force me into a match. It was the Chorney ball. You know, the big one they host every Season. Everybody is there, it’s the greatest crush. And would have served his purposes perfectly. If not for the fact that before we came to London for my Season, for months my father had made me practice methods of self-defence. It was entirely unorthodox. Even my knowledge of how to defend myself could have ruined me. But I managed to unman him long enough to get away from him before I became rumpled or anyone saw me. He never approached me again. And no one ever found out about it. Not even my father. I didn’t want anyone to know what had happened. I was frightened and ashamed and embarrassed.”

  “What were you ashamed or embarrassed about? You did exactly the right thing, and anyone would be proud of you for it. I certainly am and I have no place to be. Your father would be immensely proud of you. And probably proud of himself for having the foresight to make sure you were prepared and equipped.”

  “But don’t you see? If a whisper of it got out, I could have still been forced into marriage with Prescott for one thing. Nothing of a compromising nature happened on his part other than he forced a kiss upon me. But I defended myself in a way that would be considered scandalous by the patronesses. And salacious by everyone else. Of course, I would trust my father to keep my secret, except that he would have probably wanted to call Prescott out. Can you imagine my father fighting a duel? Can you imagine that remaining a secret? And can you imagine that anyone wouldn’t guess the reasons?”

  Rosabel could hear the hysteria rising in her voice and took a deep, quivering breath that she allowed to slowly release. With a calmer voice she continued.

  “I don’t even know how I made it through the rest of the ball. Sally was always diligent about putting an abundance of pins in my hair. My hair didn’t so much as budge during the fracas with Prescott. It was pure luck that no one saw me emerging from the shadows into which he had ushered me. And Prescott hadn’t yelled either. Although he probably didn’t want to admit to being bested by me, even if it would have helped his agenda. But no one saw me, and no one suspected. I did plead a headache eventually and Mother brought me home.”

  Bel glanced back at her maid and passed her a fresh handkerchief.

  “When I got home, as usual, Sally was waiting for me and knew imme
diately that something had happened. She held me through my tears, and we discussed every possible option. We agreed that it was best to keep the whole affair to myself. And that night the new, controlled Lady Rosabel Sherton was born. I no longer trusted in the goodness of those I met. That had been my downfall, I believe. I truly thought everyone was kindness and pleasantness at their core, even the less pleasant on the surface. I just thought they were cranky. I didn’t think anyone was truly wicked at their very center. So, I expected everyone else to be lending the same expectation to everyone else, including me. So, until then, I hid nothing. But having that big of a secret to keep taught me to control my thoughts and reactions. Until you came along, anyway.”

  Rosabel concluded on a shaky little laugh that broke a little in the middle. But she hadn’t allowed a single tear to fall. She suspected she had cried out her lifetime allotment that night two and a half years ago. After another deep breath, she met Wexford’s gaze.

  Chapter Thirteen

  James knew he couldn’t give vent to the anger coursing through him. Some of it was rightly directed at himself. He should have known this beautiful young woman wouldn’t actually be involved in any sort of espionage. But that she had suffered so at the hands of his own enemy angered him to the edge of reason. Forcing himself to ignore his own feelings for the moment, he set himself to the task of offering her some comfort. After a deep breath to match hers, he realized his grasp was probably too tight and slowly released her hand.

  She suddenly looked bereft, and he felt as though he had somehow let her down. James wondered if it was that he had let go of her hand, so he reached for her once more, but this time was careful not to squeeze too tight.

  “I think you are the bravest young woman I know.”

  She snorted. It wasn’t delicate or dainty. She actually made a loud noise of derision. But the surprise that followed it across her face was endearingly amusing. James was gratified that the girl was no longer hiding her reactions from him.